


Seven Days

by Noctis (DriveByDrabbles)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Post-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Prompt Fic, unfinished fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2005-07-02
Updated: 2008-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26337322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DriveByDrabbles/pseuds/Noctis
Summary: Ron is sick of Harry pining after Hermione and gives Harry just seven days to admit his feels before Ron does it for him. Can Harry confess on his own?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood/Ron Weasley
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a prompt response on Portkey back in 2005(!), post Book 5 (Order of the Phoenix) and before Book 6 (Half-Blood Prince) was published. I had a few ideas percolating in my head and started writing them down. This was also a challenge because the prompt also asked for fluffiness, 
> 
> Fair warning: This has never been completed! I got to Day 5 and... never got around to the last two days. I might still have notes on them buried in my hard drive, but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you. I'm posting this here so it has another to live since Portkey shut down a few years ago.
> 
> There are mentions of other ships, but the primary ones are listed in the tags above.
> 
> Crossposted on FF.net at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2466334/1/Seven-Days

It was early in the morning, but Ron was already up — something unusual for the boy who preferred to have an extra five minutes before being reluctantly dragged out of bed by a nagging conscience and a desire to avoid detention. Not to mention missing breakfast.

Breakfast was the reason the tall redhead was up early this fine morning; he had woken to a grumbling stomach and if there was one thing that would get him out of bed, it was his stomach.

As he dressed, he glanced over to Harry's bed to wake him up, but he wasn't there. The bed was still made up from the day before, with only Harry's school robes tossed at the foot along with the textbooks from yesterday's classes.

_Hmm, where could Harry be?_

Ron descended the spiralling staircase from his dormitory down to the common room. The sun was just barely in the sky, but the room was already filled with a warm glow from the sun's early rays — an advantage to being in a tower. There in the Common Room, on one of the couches nearest the fireplace, was a scene that he didn't quite expect.

Harry and Hermione were fast asleep in the couch. Numerous books, parchment rolls and quills were arrayed around them, evidence of their revising the evening before. One of the large woolen blankets, usually covering the couches was covering them, pulled up nearly to their necks. Hermione looked comfortably ensconced under one of Harry's arms, her cheek resting lightly on his chest, while Harry's head was tilted backwards on the couch's back. They were somewhat leaning over on what appeared to be a jumble of giant sofa cushions, a tall stack of books and Harry's bookbag.

 _That can't be a comfortable sleeping position,_ Ron thought. _Well, for Harry, at least._

Walking up to them, Ron jerked the blanket back, revealing that Hermione's arms were wrapped around Harry's waist, and Harry with one arm over Hermione's shoulders. Harry was half sitting up while Hermione was leaned against him, more or less stretched out on the couch.

The cool air of the Common Room replaced the trapped heat of the blanket, causing his two best friends to wake up. Blinking sleep away, they levelled their gaze at Ron, who wore a bemused, if questioning, expression at the sight of them.

"My, my, isn't this cozy?" said Ron dryly. "You know, you'd think the Head Boy and Head Girl would set a better example for the firsties than sharing a night together. In the Common Room no less."

Harry and Hermione stared at him, then at each other. Twin gasps came from them as they realized the spectacle they must've made to Ron. Hermione quickly extracted herself from Harry and both of them reddened with embarrassment.

"We — er — fell asleep studying," croaked Harry, his throat still dry from sleep.

"I figured." Ron's tone was still wry as he watched them stand and smooth their wrinkled uniforms unnecessarily.

"I'm, erm, going to go shower and change," said Hermione quickly. She was off up the stairs to the girls' dormitories and gone in the blink of an eye. Harry was left behind, so he began the task of picking up the detritus of their revision, stacking parchments and books. A task that was a little harder under the questioning, mirthful, gaze of Ron.

"Nothing was going on," Harry answered defensively. "We were just up late."

"I know. I was just thinking . . . ."

"Thinking what?"

"Thinking that if anyone else had woken you up, they'd think something was going on. I mean, it's not the first time you two have been in a situation to give someone ideas."

"Nothing's going on," Harry repeated again emphatically.

"For someone who's got nothing going on, you two sure are doing a piss-poor job at convincing people. Hell, I know there's nothing going on, but you're doing a pretty bad job at convincing me."

Harry glanced up to see Ron fighting a grin — and losing. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he accused.

"Just a little payback for you taking the mickey when Luna and I started seeing one another."

"Well, Hermione and I _aren't_ seeing one another."

"Why not?"

The question brought Harry's head up from his book-collecting task. Ron noticed a surprised and maybe even a slightly frightened look in his green eyes. Ron wasn't a terribly intuitive man, but nearly seven years as a close friend with Harry was enough to give him a little insight.

"Because we're just friends!" said Harry.

"Mm-hmm. Just friends. Harry, I'm going to say this, and bear in mind I'm your best mate and all. But you two have got it bad for one another. And everyone knows it."

A flummoxed Harry just blinked at Ron, mouth opened.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," said Ron. "Look, Harry, you have to tell her."

"Why?" said Harry in a small voice.

"Trust me on this one," said Ron with uncharacteristic sobriety. "You don't want to make the same mistake I did. If you wait too long, well . . . feelings can fade, life goes on and she'll find someone else."

Harry didn't answer for a long minute. Instead, he mechanically completed his book-and-parchment collecting and sat down heavily on the couch where he spent the night with Hermione.

Ron could see that Harry was wrestling with the idea of coming open with his attraction to Hermione — an attraction he never admitted to Ron, but Ron, with a little experience of having a crush on Hermione, could spot. And, if nothing else, by the fact that Harry didn't contradict when he pointed out that they wanted something more from one another.

"What if she–"

"Doesn't like you that way?" interrupted Ron, sensing Harry's thoughts. "Trust me, it won't be a problem. I should get Colin to sneak pictures of you two, if you don't believe me."

"I'm a little surprised that you're not–"

"Jealous?" Ron laughed with remarkably little bitterness. "I've had a little while to get over it."

"Yeah, not to mention a little help from a certain blonde friend . . . ." said Harry with a grin.

"Well, yeah," said Ron sheepishly. "But that's just my point! I didn't wait this time, and you've seen where I am."

"Yeah, snogging whenever you think nobody's looking."

"Hey!" Ron protests, cheeks pinkening. "That's not true!"

"Yesterday morning under the main stairs, yesterday at lunch behind the suit of armor by the main entrance," Harry began, ticking off locations and times on his fingers, "Yesterday afternoon _again_ outside Greenhouse Three, and yesterday night in Transfiguration." The last one had Harry raise his brow at Ron.

"How did you know about that!" Ron exclaimed. Harry noted that he didn't deny the accusation.

"A little help from Messers Moony, Wormtail–"

"That bloody map," Ron growled. A thought occured to him. "Wait. Why were you looking at it last night?"

Harry shrugged. "We were revising Charms for our NEWTs and Hermione was wondering why you skived off from our 7th year study group. And now you just admitted why," he added with a grin.

"Hmph," Ron grumped. "At least I'm getting a little something, which is more than you can say."

"Yeah, well–"

"Look, just tell her. Seriously. She's not going to say no."

Harry sighed, avoiding Ron's gaze. "I'm not sure she won't," he said, in that small voice again. "And I couldn't handle it if she did. It'd ruin everything between us."

"You're pitiful, you know that?" said Ron with a sigh. "You can defeat the most powerful and feared Dark wizard in a century, but you can't admit to a simple _girl_ that you fancy her?"

"This is no simple girl, Ron. . . . This is Hermione," said Harry. There was an underlying yearning, tempered with hidden steel, in Harry's response, Ron thought. He almost smiled. He knew Harry wasn't going to let anybody call Hermione simple.

"Then tell her. Show that legendary Gryffindor courage, that Quidditch fearlessness that'll make you dive headfirst into the ground at a hundred miles an hour to catch the Snitch. _Tell her_."

Ron didn't hear a response from Harry. _Time to pull out the secret weapon._

"Tell her. Or I will."

A look of panic splashed across Harry's features. " _What?!_ "

"You heard me," said Ron, meeting Harry's scared look with a mischievous grin. "I'll give you, oh, a week. If you still haven't told her, then I'll tell her. I don't think the rest of us can handle you two like this for more than that. We have NEWTs to study for, you know, and we can't do it when there's so much gossip going around about when you two are going to open your eyes."

Walking over to the portal entrance to find breakfast, Ron glanced back at a still-paralyzed Harry. "See you at breakfast!" he quipped and stepped out.

* * *

Harry watched the retreating form of his best friend. A cold pit of terror formed in his stomach as he processed Ron's ultimatum.

_Oh, bugger._


	2. Day 1

Hermione raced up the stairs to her dormitory, fleeing the uncomfortable and embarassing scene in the Common Room. _Well,_ she thought, _Ron discovering us like that was embarrassing. The sleeping bit wasn't all that bad . . . ._

As she entered the room she shared with fellow seventh-years, Lavender and Parvati, she found them already up and gossiping. _Merlin, don't those two ever stop?_ Unfortunately for Hermione, the Head Girl's absence was the current topic of discussion.

Two pairs of eyes swung over to the door as Hermione entered, briefly looking over her appearance. Bed still made? _Check._ Sleepy? _Check._ Rumpled? _Check._ Cheeks flushed? _Check._

"Ooh, someone didn't spend the night in her room. Possibly snogging?" Lavender sing-songed as she and Parvati broke out into giggles.

Hermione rolled her eyes and padded over to her wardrobe and began pulling out a fresh uniform to change into after her shower. "Please," she snorted dismissively. "I just fell asleep in the Common Room. There was no snogging involved."

She was digging in the far back of her dresser for a new blouse when she turned around and found Parvati invading her personal space. "Excuse me!" she huffed.

Parvati was holding one of the Hogwarts sweaters in one hand and with the other she gently cupped Hermione's chin and compared the pattern to Hermione's cheek. "Hey Lavender, looks like Hermione slept on someone's sweater. See? The House crest pattern is the same and — wait — I can see letters —"

Breaking free of Parvati's somewhat intrusive investigation, Hermione dashed over to the closest mirror. Her roommate was right: there, imprinted lightly on her cheek was Gryffindor crest — along with the letters 'HB'. There was no doubt she fell asleep on the Head Boy's chest. Her lips twisted into a small frown as she rubbed her cheek to erase the evidence.

She found Lavender and Parvati giving her knowing looks and a grin she wanted to smack off their faces. "What?" she said irritably.

"Well, there's only one person in the whole school who has 'HB' on a Gryffindor crest," Lavender pointed out. "So that means . . . ." She left it dangling there to see if Hermione would play.

"All right! I fell asleep on the sofa with Harry, okay!" Hermione exclaimed, as she yanked the rest of her clothing and toiletries out of her wardrobe with a bit more force than necessary. "Honestly, you two aren't happy unless there's some drama going on. Nothing sordid happened. Nothing's going on," said Hermione, unconsciously echoing what Harry was saying to Ron in the Common Room.

"Really?" said Parvati looking highly skeptical.

"Yes. We were revising Charms, as you two should be, if you expect to do well on the NEWTs." That was more like Hermione: the bossy, studious student they'd come to know and love. Well, maybe not so much the last bit for them.

"We were revising Divination last night," said Lavender. Hermione snorted. "It's the first NEWT exam, after all—"

"—but Harry can practice his Charms on me any time," Parvati interrupted, sharing another maddening giggle with Lavender.

"Hmph!" Without another word, Hermione grabbed her belongings and stalked out to get a shower before the girls could monopolize it and spend an inordinate amount of time primping when they should be thinking about their studies.

* * *

"What do you think, Lav?" asked Parvati, when Hermione had left the room. "You think the rumours are true?"

"Absolutely. But they're in so much denial, it's painful. You see the way she walked out when you said you'd do Charms with Harry? That was jealousy if I ever saw it."

"Someone should do something about it," Parvati mused. "There isn't much time left before we all leave Hogwarts, after all."

Lavender laughed. "I don't think it'll matter. Some friends are inseparable, like those two. They'll figure it out eventually. In the meantime, we get to have a little fun with Miss Stodgy."

Silvery giggles filled the dorm room as they separated and began their own daily preparations.

* * *

Breakfast had just barely arrived before Ron started digging in. Most days, he had breakfast with his best friends, or Ginny, or Luna, but this was one morning when all of them were late in making it down at the start of breakfast hour.

Ginny made her way into the Great Hall and noticed Ron off by himself at the Gryffindor table. Sitting down across from him, she began filling her plate. So enthused by his meal, Ron didn't even notice that his sister was right in front of him. Snickering softly to herself, Ginny waved a hand until she caught his attention.

"Goodness, Ron. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were in love with your meal. Should Luna feel jealous?" she teased.

"Ha, ha," said Ron with a roll of his eyes. "So I enjoy my meals, nothing wrong with that!"

"No, but you go a bit beyond enjoying them sometimes. You didn't even notice I was right here!"

"Well, it was just you. Nobody important," said Ron, grinning cheekily at her.

"Hey!" Ginny tossed a sausage at him.

Ron speared it with his fork and calmly took a bite. "Thanks!"

"Git."

"Prat."

With a knowing laugh, they settled into their respective breakfasts. The comfortable playfulness they shared was a source of amusement for them and their closest friends. True rows between them were rare, and sometimes a little scary. Redheads were like that.

"Oh! You should've seen what I found in the Common Room this morning," said Ron around a forkful of scrambled eggs. "Harry and Hermione were all cozy on the sofa. Turns out they fell asleep there last night."

Ginny's eyes widened at Ron's news. "No! Really? What were they doing?" As Hermione's good friend, she knew that Hermione didn't see Harry that way — or so she repeatedly told Ginny. She leaned forward expectantly.

"Nah, but they _were_ sharing a blanket. I woke them up and told them that they should set a better example for the firsties."

Ginny giggled at the thought of Ron lecturing the Head Boy and Head Girl. "Bet you enjoyed that."

"Of course! Hermione ran to her dorm to change. Harry said nothing was going on."

"D'you believe him?"

"Yeah, I believe him. But I told him he should also tell Hermione that he fancies her. I said he had a week to tell her or else I'd tell Hermione."

"Ron!" Ginny laughed. "You did not!"

"I did," Ron grinned wickedly. "Oh, come on! You know as well as I do they fancy one another. They think the other will say no and make it all weird between them, but it won't happen."

"You think he'll tell her in time?" said Ginny, looking pensive.

"Dunno, but it'll be a fun week if he doesn't."

"This present so many opportunities . . . ." Ginny started with a mischievious glint in her eye. "What do you think? Should I pretend to fancy Harry again, throw myself at him?"

Ron nearly choked on the juice he was drinking. Never a good thing, laughing and swallowing at the same time. "It's your own neck. You know how good Hermione is at her hexes."

Ginny shared a grin with Ron. _Oh yes, this could be quite fun._

* * *

The day passed uneventfully, what with classes and studying and all being as exciting as they usually were. That is, it passed uneventfully for everyone but Harry, who was on tenterhooks on how to best approach Hermione and beat Ron's deadline.

He hadn't come up with any brilliant ideas.

Late that night, the Gryffindor seventh years were being drilled and prodded into revising Charms by Hermione, who had taken up the position of NEWT Drill Instructor for Gryffindor House; a title, some suggested quietly, that should be added to the HG on her school crest.

It was this school crest that Harry was staring at, oblivious to all the questions and answers that were flying about; having studied with Hermione the two evenings prior, she directed her questions to the others — particularly Lavender and Parvati, much to their disgruntlement.

It suddenly struck Harry that the Head Girl initials matched Hermione's, an errant thought that had him smiling to himself.

A gentle elbow to the ribs nudged Harry out of his reveries. He turned to Ron, who had jostled him. "What?" he whispered — he didn't want to interrupt Hermione's interrogation of her two roommates.

"Could you be any more obvious about staring at Hermione's breasts?" said Ron with barely suppressed snicker.

"I was _not_ staring at her breasts!" Harry hissed back

"Mate, you were doing nothing but staring at them for five minutes there, and then you smiled. Were you thinking about how'd they'd look like without her jumper on? Or, let me guess —"

Ron never got a chance to tell Harry his guess, since Harry upended Ron's bookbag and yanked it over his head. The commotion caught the attention of the others, most of whom were looking on with amusement — Harry and Ron's horseplay was nothing new. Hermione, on the other hand, was giving them the dreaded McGonagall Stare, a look she had, somewhat distressingly, perfected over the years.

"We'll be over at the other end," Harry offered with his hands up in surrender, before Hermione could say anything. Grabbing a fistful of Ron's jumper, he dragged his best friend, bag-on-head and all, over to the other side of the Common Room.

Taking the bag from off his head, Ron looked around and saw he and Harry were over at the far couch, away from the study group. "Thanks! I was getting a little tired of studying anyways," he said to Harry.

Harry gave a small, guilty laugh. "Don't tell Hermione, but I could use a study break, too."

"Yeah, you had that big night last night," said Ron blandly.

Harry narrowed his eyes at Ron. "You know that was just between friends, right? I told you, nothing happened."

"Oh, come on, you two were a little too lovey-dovey for 'just friends'," accused Ron.

"We fell asleep studying!" said Harry in protest. "It's not like you and I haven't fallen asleep in the Common Room while studying late."

"Yeah, but I don't curl up against you like Hermione did last night," Ron pointed out.

"Only because I pushed you away when you did," Harry smirked.

"What?!"

"You were totally all over me when we pulled an all-nighter for that last Potions test."

"What, afraid of a little snog with your best mate?" Ron grinned, shifting next to Harry and clapping a hand around Harry's shoulders.

"Like you and Seamus last Hogsmeade visit?" said Harry, grinning wickedly.

Ron flushed horribly as he stared daggers at Harry. "I WAS DRUNK AND IT WAS A DARE!" he roared. From across the Common Room, their study group looked up at Ron's outburst. Very curious looks at Ron's outburst. If possible, Ron's face reddened even more.

"Hey, just saying, Ron. Nobody forced that firewhisky down your throat," said Harry, pausing for just a moment. Ron saw a glint in Harry's eye and knew the other shoe was about to drop. "Or Seamus' tongue, for that matter." And there it was.

Harry had him there, leaving Ron's face burning with embarassment, both at his outburst and the memory of his drunken actions that time. "Fine," he growled tightly. "Nothing was going on with you two." Ron wanted nothing more than to wipe that damned grin off of Harry's face.

"Seeker one, Keeper zero." said Harry glibly.

"I'm going to bed," said Ron stiffly, quite put out at having his little Hogsmeade indiscretion aired — by his best friend, no less!

Since it was nearing one o'clock in the morning, the study group broke up soon after, and everyone trudged up to their respective dormitories. Hermione came over to Harry, where he was staring into the fire with a pensive expression.

She was quiet, but Harry sensed her, rather than heard. Glancing up, he smiled and was disconcerted at the stomach flutters he felt when she smiled back. "What was that all about?" she asked, cocking her head to the side, a quizzical look furrowing her brow.

_Merlin, she's cute when she looks like that._

"Oh, just knocking down Ron a peg when he gets a little big for his britches," said Harry with a laugh.

Ron's words echoed in his head, as he was in this spot at sunrise when he had his discussion: _Tell her! Tell her! Tell her!_

"So — erm — the studying's going well, you think?" he said. _Idiot!_

Hermione shrugged, lifting her shoulders slightly and dropping them again. Another gesture Harry thought was one of her more adorable gestures. "I think some of the others need a bit more time revising and less time thinking about our next Hogsmeade visit. But I think you're doing fine," she added.

"Well, good. I have you to thank for that, you know." _Tell her, tell her!_

Harry's chest warmed at her smile. "You're welcome," she said quietly. "Anyway, it's quite late. So, I'll see you tomorrow?"

Harry nodded dumbly; he knew his courage wasn't going to rally in the next twenty seconds. "Yeah, I'll see you at breakfast. Erm, g'night, Hermione." His breath caught as she leaned up and gently brushed her lips on his cheek.

"Good night, Harry!"

Harry waited until she was out of sight before letting out a breath he was holding. _This is going to be harder than I thought._

* * *

Ron was already changed and in bed when Harry entered their dorm; the other boys were already conked out, no doubt unaccustomed to the late, late night studying habits that Hermione had. "Ahh, the Head Boy returns home," he taunted lightly. "So, did you tell—"

"—shut up," Harry grumbled. He didn't want Ron to finish asking. It would just be a reaffirmation of his failure that night.

Harry finished getting ready for bed in blessed silence and crawled underneath the cool sheets of his bed. He tossed his glasses onto the night stand and waved his wand to put out the remaining lights, when he heard a whisper from somewhere to his right.

"One day down, six to go."

_This is going to be a long week._


	3. Day 2

Ron and Luna were in the Library at a table on their own. It wasn't a normal location for him to be, but in the weeks he and Luna had more or less become an item, her Ravenclaw influence supplemented — and in some cases supplanted — Hermione's insistence of his presence in the library on a regular basis.

Both their heads were over their respective parchments, scratching out with their quills in comfortable silence. Now and then, one of them would glance up to the other. Their eyes would meet and they'd smile at one another — Ron with an awkward, but charming, grin; Luna with a serene curve of her lips.

Before long, Luna put her quill down, blew over the latest words on her scroll to let it dry. She leaned back in her chair.

"Want to go get some biscuits?" she asked out of the blue.

Ron glanced up, blinking. "Nah, afternoon tea's in an hour, I can wait."

"Oh, all right." Luna paused a moment. "Want to go in the stacks and snog?"

Ron looked up again to the girl he was dating and wondered how he ended up with her. Also, he wondered how she jumped around in her conversation the way she did.

"Actually, I'm trying to finish a letter to Charlie and I'd like to get it out by tonight," said Ron apologetically, and offering her another smile.

"All right," said Luna. Only a trace of disappointment carried in her voice. To most of the students, she carried herself — and her strangeness — with a self-possession that few of her fellow teenagers could match. It was an odd contrast to Ron's emotional volatility.

The last of the Weasley children still at Hogwarts, Ginny, as well as Hermione, rounded the corner and spotted Ron and Luna sharing a table. The sight of both of them together took a little getting used to, but in the end, Ginny was supportive of anybody who could help keep her brother grounded. Not to mention out of her love life.

"Hey, you two," said Ginny, as she and Hermione helped themselves to a seat. "My goodness, Ron, are you actually starting to revise before midnight?"

Hermione chuckled softly.

Ron looked up at his sister's grin, giving her an even look. "Oh, shut up. I'm writing to Charlie."

"Oh! I wrote to mum. Send this out when you're up in the Owlrey." Ginny flipped open one of her books and handed Ron a letter already addressed and sealed with candle wax. Ron absently nodded and placed it to the side while he continued scratching out his own correspondence. "So, how are you, Luna?" Ginny asked.

"Hungry. Want to go to the kitchens to get some biscuits?"

Ginny thought about this a moment before shaking her head. "Not really hungry right now."

"Want to go into the stacks and snog?"

Ron's quill stopped momentarily as he looked up at the question, first to Luna, then to his sister. Ginny, who was well-accustomed to Luna's strangeness by now, didn't seem to find the question all that unusual. "Nah," she answered companionably.

Luna's silvery-grey eyes turned to Hermione.

"Er, no thanks, Luna," said Hermione, eyeing the Ravenclaw a little warily; while Luna was a skilled Defence witch, Hermione still thought Luna was a bit too strange for her tastes.

Luna slipped from her seat, quiet as a mouse. "All right. Well, I'll be back." She bent down and gave Ron an affectionate peck on the top of his head. Ron didn't look up, but he did reach up a free hand to gently squeeze her upper arm, sliding it over her robe's sleeve until just their fingertips were touching as she walked away.

Ginny got her books out and was shuffling scrolls of assignments around while Hermione watched Luna walk out. Harry was walking in their direction when he stopped and spoke to Luna. They were just far away enough that their whispers didn't carry. The stop wasn't long, and Luna reached for one of Harry's hands and squeezed it before leaving the library. Harry came over and took Luna's seat. "Hey," he said by way of greeting.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked him, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"What was what about?"

"Luna?"

"She just said 'hi'."

"And then she grabbed your hand," said Hermione with a frown.

"She always does that," Harry shrugged, obviously not thinking anything of it.

"Always?" There was a definite edge to her voice — which Harry missed, of course.

"Sure. Why?"

"Ron?" said Hermione.

"Huh?" Ron looked up, engrossed with his correspondence.

"You don't mind that Luna does that?"

"Does what?"

Frustration flickered across Hermione's features as her two best, if densest, friends missed her meaning for the 5,462nd time. "Luna grabs Harry's hand when she sees him."

Ron blinked. "She does?"

Hermione just barely refrained from throwing her hands up. Ginny reached over and patted Hermione's forearm. "Relax, Hermione, it's just her way of being friendly with Harry." To make her point, she kicked Harry under the table, as he was seated conveniently across from the redhead. "It doesn't mean anything more, right Harry?"

Luckily for Harry, Ginny's height (or lack thereof), made her kick just brush his shins, where a longer-legged girl (say, Hermione), would have him reaching for his leg in pain. "Er, right." Then, despite the best efforts of the stone in his head to block it, he clued in. _Hermione's jealous!_ "Hermione, you don't think something's going on between Luna and I, do you?"

"Am I the only one who thinks something is wrong with Luna?" Hermione burst out, completely avoiding Harry's question.

"Yes," came the chorus of the other tablemates.

"Look, Hermione," said Harry placatingly, "I wouldn't try anything with Luna. I mean, she's going out with Ron. I'd just as soon go off and snog with Ginny."

At this, Ginny perked up — here, she was presented with the perfect opportunty to tweak some noses. There was the infamous Weasley Grin and twinkle in her eye. "Really? Say, Ron — Harry says that if snogged Luna, that he'd then snog me. Would you mind lending her to him for a bit so I can get my turn later?"

Three pairs of eyes (four, if you counted Harry's glasses), turned to give Ginny with a mixture of responses. Harry looked startled, if amused. Ron's expression was a desperate attempt to not give away a knowing grin. Hermione glared a Ginny, a glare which Ginny easily resisted with a impish grin and a giggle she stifled with her hands.

"What?" said Ginny with an air of innocence — which she failed entirely. "She _did_ ask everyone else if they wanted to snog, so it's only fair if Harry gets that opportunity, too."

"She did?" said Harry, sounding amused. "Ron, mate, it sounds like you're not giving her enough attention."

"Well, if _someone_ wasn't cracking the whip so hard about NEWTs, maybe I could attend to that," said Ron with significant look to Hermione. He was barely suppressing a smile.

Hermione sputtered at her friends' comments. _How on earth did Luna's strangeness become_ my _fault?_ With a retort failing her, she settled into a huffy silence as she unfurled one of their last essays and began scribbling out more inches to it.

Luna came back before long, bearing a napkin with biscuits. She had to hide it from Madam Pince, lest they all get thrown out of the library for eating, an experience Ginny and Harry well remembered from two years prior when the Head Librarian caught them eating Mrs Weasley's chocolate Easter eggs.

"Say, Luna," Ginny began, "Harry might be interested in snogging in the stacks. You didn't ask him." Looking askance, Ginny enjoyed seeing Hermione jerk at her comments; not a lot, but just enough for her to notice.

"Really?" said Luna, looking to Harry with a light in her eye that Hermione thought was entirely inappropriate for a girl seeing someone already. "You're not busy?"

Harry laughed playfully. "Not really, we just have this History of Magic essay to do, and it's dead boring."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.

"What? C'mon Hermione, it's always boring, just like Professor Binns. Besides," Harry added in a teasing lilt, "I haven't snogged anyone in ages . . . ."

Luna stood up and took a step over to Harry with a small little smile and just a hint of mischief glinting in her eye — no doubt a trait she was picking up by hanging out with the Weasleys. "We never did get a chance to snog much last year," said Luna with a dreamy smile. She was tugging Harry up by the arm while Hermione looked on in disbelief.

_He can't possibly— he wouldn't actually—_

At the beginning of sixth year, Harry was despondent about the loss of his godfather and after a frustrating summer back at the Dursleys, it was Luna to whom Harry turned for a few months. Their shared sense of family loss, something even Ron and Hermione couldn't relate to, and Luna's tranquil manner was the balm that Harry needed just then. Their relationship was little more than a series of quiet moments to find solace in one another, and one brief kiss.

Harry was eternally grateful to Luna for her support at the time, though they both knew nothing could come out of them trying to escalate their relationship. It did provide some grist for the rumour mills, but thankfully, only at Hogwarts, and not in the Daily Prophet.

Ironically, it was that single kiss that spelled the end of their intimate time together; Luna knew Harry was back to normal, which was the whole point. They remained on friendly terms every since.

"Ron! Are you just going to allow this?" said Hermione incredulously.

"Well, only if I can watch them . . . ."

Hermione looked around the table, aghast. Looking at Harry, she said, "I thought you just said you wouldn't—" Then it hit her; everyone at the table had an entirely too mischievous a look in their eye. They were pulling one over her!

Flushing, she clammed up and went back to her essay, ignoring the others and their shared grins. Ron eventually got up and led Luna off by the arm — alone. "We'll be in the stacks," he said over his shoulder as they disappeared.

Harry took his seat again, grinning with Ginny, though he did feel a small twinge of guilt for playing off of Hermione's jealousy. He hoped she wasn't too angry with him. After all, it wasn't the first joke they pulled at her expense.

"So, er, how about we do that History of Magic essay?" said Harry tentatively.

Over on Hermione's side of the table, the Head Girl was wrestling with various roiling emotions and a snarky logical inner voice that was doing nothing at all to help. On the one hand, she was well accustomed to the boys' small pranks; on the other, this particular one left her with an uncomfortable squirming in her stomach.

_Jealousy,_ her inner logical voice said. _You're the only girl at the table Harry_ hasn't _kissed at some point._

_Absolutely not!_ thought Hermione. _It can't possibly be jealousy. Nope. Nope._

_Ah, but if you look at all the symptoms, clearly it's—_

_You're wrong! It's something else. It has to be._

_OK, Miss Smarty-pants, what is it, then?_ the logical voice challenged.

_It's—_ Hermione faltered. _It's something I can't put my finger on, but it'll come to me._

_If you say so._

Harry's question took a moment to filter in (she was busy arguing with herself that it was _not_ jealousy), but the conflicted emotions she was feeling left her a little shirty.

"Er, Hermione? Our essay?" said Harry, interrupting her thoughts.

"Well, since it's so boring, maybe you'd like to do it yourself without boring old me," said Hermione in a tight voice. Before she knew what she was doing, she was up from her seat and fled to the girls' loo before Harry could say a word.

* * *

Hermione was hiding in a stall, leaning her forehead against the door as she tried to calm herself. _Get a grip, Hermione! That was a ridiculous outburst._

_Yes, it was._ That damned inner logical voice was back.

_You haven't been very helpful today, you know._

_You haven't been very rational today, you know,_ it tossed back.

The accusation stung a little, but no more chastising was forthcoming. After a few minutes of deep breathing to calm herself, she figured she might as well take care of personal business since she was already in the stall. She was unbuttoning her robes when she heard the outer door open and voices drift in.

". . . was reading in the Daily Prophet about some Death Eater activity despite You-Know-Who being defeated," one of the voices was saying.

"Don't worry, my Harry will take care of it," gushed the other voice. Hermione recognized it as Julia, a sixth year Hufflepuff whose romantic notions she had always found utterly asinine.

"Your Harry?"

"Harry Potter. He has a little crush on me," Julia sighed wistfully.

Hermione's hand froze in the act of hanging up her robes on the hook inside the stall. Inexplicably, she found herself holding her breath so as not to give away her presence. _What in Merlin's name is that bint talking about? Harry wouldn't have a crush on her! If Harry fancied anyone, I'd be the first to know!_

"Does he now? In Julia-world?" replied her friend, with mild sarcasm. _Carol, that's her name._ Hermione always thought Carol the more sensible of the two.

"In Julia-world," Julia reaffirmed to Carol's soft sniggering.

Hermione let out a soft sigh of relief, only then realizing she had been holding her breath the entire time. _As if Harry would fall for that little chit—!_

"This one time, he came over to my parents' place while they were out, wearing the most beautiful charcoal-coloured dress robes. He came to cook me dinner . . . ." Julia had gone on in a misty tone, reciting what was obviously some fantasy she had with The Boy Who Lived Twice. "And he brought me flowers."

In her stall, Hermione let out a soft snort of disgust before clapping her hand over her mouth as she realized she would be heard. _Harry never brings a girl flowers! Well, except this past Valentine's when Harry gave me a red rose . . . ._

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" said Carol.

"I thought I heard someone."

"Julia, I have some news for you: It's not Harry sneaking into the girls' toilets to secretly snog with you."

_I should bloody well think not!_

"Carol!" Julia cried. "I told you that in confidence!"

"Well, it's hard to keep track of all your Harry fantasies," said Carol with what Hermione was sure was a grin on Carol's face. "You sure do have a lot of them. You know, if you put half as much effort into a boy who actually noticed you, you'd be much better off."

_I always liked Carol,_ thought the Head Girl fondly.

"Hmph!" was Julia's response, one which Hermione would have called 'high dudgeon'. It was a old and somewhat silly-sounding phrase, quite apropos for the silly girl who stalked out of the bathrooms.

Carol sighed, following her friend out. "Silly girl," she said, echoing Hermione's thoughts.

"Honestly! The things you hear in the loo these days . . . ." Hermione murmured once she was sure she was alone. _What is it with everyone wanting to snog Harry lately?_

Hermione frowned as she swore her inner logical voice was laughing at her just then.

* * *

Harry watched Hermione leave their table, wordless at her abrupt departure. A small fear crept into his chest that his little jealousy-invoking flirtation with Luna might've gone just a little too far and upset Hermione more than he would've liked.

He was left at the table with Ginny, who gave him a commiserating smile.

"Er, that was a little unexpected, innit?" said Harry, breaking an awkward silence.

Ginny shrugged, privately pleased with Hermione's reaction. "NEWT stress, I figure."

"Yeah," said Harry with a little frown, unsure it was just stress. "I think—"

He was about to confess to Ginny about his suspicions of Hermione's reaction, a confession Ginny could feel was coming. Trying not to looking too eager, she leaned forward. "Yeah?"

Just then, a breathless Dennis Creevy burst into the Library and spotted Harry. He ran over and half-collapsed on the table, gulping for air. "Harry! There's a — fight down the hall — told to — get you or — Hermione —"

Heaving a heavy sigh, Harry nodded to Dennis, who collapsed into Ron's free chair to catch his breath. "I'm never going to finish this essay," he grumbled as he gathered up tossed his essay and quill into this bookbag and straightened his robes. "I'll see you later, Ginny."

Ginny glared at Dennis for interrupting their talk, but the Creevy boy was too busy watching the Head Boy assume an aura of authority to deal with scuffle.

_Harry does wear his Head Boyship well, when he wants,_ she thought, eyeing Harry's exit as well. Not for the first time since she and Harry broke up the previous Hallowe'en, she sighed wistfully. _Ah well. Que sera, sera._

* * *

Harry didn't see Hermione for the rest of the day, nor did he see her in the Common Room that night. Fate, it seemed, conspired to keep them apart the rest of the day. Harry spent the better part of the afternoon sorting out the fight and reporting it to the Heads of Houses, that he missed Dinner. Dobby, of course, helped him out afterwards, but he was looking forward to talking to Hermione.

After she emerged from the girls' toilets, Hermione avoided the Library, not wishing to run into Harry again just yet. She hid in her dormitory, meditating on her strange day (and feelings), until Head Girl duties called her away. She spent most of the night supervising the Prefect patrols and watching over the armour-scrubbing several Slytherins were assigned as part of their detention for fighting in the hallway earlier that day — the same fight Harry had broken up.

Still hoping to catch up with her, Harry camped out in the Common Room, ostensibly working on his still-incomplete essay, but mostly watching the Portrait Door every time it opened. Hermione was out late, so by the time she wearily climbed through the Portrait, Harry was the only one left in the Common Room, asleep at a table.

Standing next to him, Hermione gazed on his sleeping form with an affectionate smile. She tugged his quill from his fingers, as it was causing a large inkblot on the essay parchment. And, true to form, her eyes flickered over the unfinished essay, making mental notes of his mistakes — she could correct them tomorrow.

She stroked a finger over his cheek before she realized what she was doing, jerked her hand away and blushed in spite of herself. Retreating to her blessedly quiet dormitory (Lavender and Parvati were already asleep), she crawled into bed and fell into a restive sleep.

* * *

Harry woke suddenly from his dream and realized he was still in the Common Room. And, much to his dismay, his essay was still undone.

_I guess that means I was dreaming that Hermione helped me finished it._ He touched his cheek as if remembering a soft caress. _I guess I was dreaming about that, too,_ he added.

Gathering up his belongings, he dragged his lead feet up the stairs, ruminating over his day.

_One less day to tell Hermione, and I seemed to have made her mad,_ he thought distressingly. _I need to make it up to her . . . ._

He was dressing into his pajamas when Trevor croaked at him from Neville's night stand. Eyes widening in a _Eureka!_ moment, he climbed under his covers with his mind racing as the idea blossomed into a plan (a small one) to apologize. He set his alarm to wake him up earlier than normal.

_Yes! Neville can help me!_

As he drifted back to dreamland, he was warmed by the small hope of Hermione's favourable reaction tomorrow morning.


	4. Day 3

The idea came on to Ginny like a rush; a surge of sheer genius — or so she thought.

Dawn was just breaking when the idea popped into her head, at that cusp of consciousness and not. But when it did, Ginny was immediately awake and grinning.

_Fred and George would appreciate this,_ she thought.

Rushing through her morning ritual — shower and changing — she hurried down to find Ron. Perhaps it was simply Weasley instinct, but she headed straight for the Great Hall, expecting him to be waiting for the breakfast hour to start. She wasn't disappointed, because there he was, tapping the top of the Gryffindor table, waiting for the food to appear.

"You're up early," he said, spotting Ginny coming through the main doors. Then, seeing the glint in her eye, he arched a brow. "And looking awfully spry. What's up?"

Bubbling with excitement, she leaned forward and explained her idea to Ron. It was something to get Hermione riled up about Harry and as she laid it out for her brother, Ron's eyes grew to small saucers of surprise.

"You're mental!" he laughed.

"What do you think?" said Ginny with a wicked grin.

"I think you're about, what, five foot two?" said Ron, sweeping his gaze over her.

"Five three, but what's that got to do with anything?" said Ginny with a puzzled look.

"Mum and dad should know what size coffin to get when Hermione finishes hexing you," he laughed. Ginny gave a smirk.

"I'll find her sometime today and tell her," said Ginny before getting up and hurrying back to Gryffindor Tower with a delicious grin etched on her features.

* * *

Approaching the doorway to the Main Hall, Harry was taking calming breaths as he tried to still his doubts — not to mention his fluttering stomach — about what he was about to do.

_C'mon, Harry, this is hardly the scariest thing you've ever done. Better get on with it before the Hall fills up._

Walking as casually as he could, Harry bumped into another student while rounding a corner while his mind was quietly chanting to himself to not worry.

"Oh!" he cried, grabbing the girl's forearm to steady her. "I'm so sorry—"

"No, no, it's my fault, shouldn't be reading and walking at the same time," she said.

"Let me get that for you," said Harry, crouching down to pick up the book. As he handed it back to her, his green eyes glanced over her features. Somewhat short, blue eyes, blonde hair. A sixth-year, with a Hufflepuff crest on her robes. She looked vaguely familiar.

"Thanks, Harry," she said with a smile, hugging the book to her chest.

"You're welcome, er—" Harry couldn't remember her name.

"Carol. I didn't expect you to know my name." she said with a knowing laugh. Then, gesturing to something in his hand, "That's a lovely specimen you have there."

Harry flushed lightly, hiding the item behind his back. "Thanks."

"Lucky girl."

"What? How d'you know it's for a—"

"I didn't think it was for you," said Carol wryly.

"Oh. Yeah." Good old Harry. Smooth as ever with the ladies.

"Well, I'll let you get to breakfast," she said, nodding towards the Great Hall. But before they had each taken more than three or four steps, she stopped and called out. "Hey, Harry, let me ask you something?"

"Uh, sure."

"You wouldn't happen to have dark grey dress robes and the ability to cook, would you?"

"Er, yes to both. Why?"

"Just curious."

Harry's eyes narrowed at the strange question; particularly the mischievous glint in the girl's eyes as she strode away. Idly, he wondered if he didn't just give away something he shouldn't have. He was at the threshold of the Great Hall when his run-in with Carol was immediately ejected from all thoughts. He saw Hermione sitting by herself, a plateful of buttered toast to one side while an opened book lay before her on the table. Before he could balk, he forced himself to sit down next to her.

"Good morning, Hermione," said Harry, giving her a nervous smile.

Blinking up from her reading, Hermione noticed she was no longer alone and returned Harry's smile. "Oh! Good morning, Harry. Want some toast?"

"In a minute." _Thank Merlin! She doesn't seem to be upset still,_ he thought. "I, er, wanted to give you something. An apology for yesterday in the library."

Hermione blinked at him, giving him a look he couldn't quite interpret. "Oh," she said, with just the slightest trace of pink to her cheeks. "Harry, that's not necessary, I was just . . . I think it was just stress. I shouldn't have left you like that."

"Still, I felt kinda bad, so I got you this," said Harry, a tentative, hopeful look in his eyes. "I hope you like it."

From behind his back, he produced a lavender orchid, just barely in bloom.

* * *

Over at the Hufflepuff table, Carol was only half-listening to Julia's latest dream. It was almost a ritual, as barely a morning went by where Julia _didn't_ have a dream that involved some boy or other.

No, Carol's eyes occasionally flickered over to the Gryffindor table where Harry and Hermione were having a morning _tête-a-tête._ She had a hard time suppressing a smile at their run-in in the hallway, and was watching with an expectant look as Harry presented the flower she had seen him holding.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting the gesture. Her mouth worked, and Carol knew the Head Girl was caught wordless for once in her life. She nudged Julia from her ramblings.

"You know, Julia, if you didn't spend that extra five minutes brushing your hair, you could've run into Harry with me this morning."

Julia gasped, mouth in a perfect 'O' in surprise. "You— you ran into Harry?"

"Yep," said Carol non-chalantly. "We spoke briefly. Turns out he _does_ have charcoal grey dress robes. And he can cook," she added.

"I knew it!" gushed Julia. "My dream was right! Oh, how I wish I was there!"

Then, knowing it was going to be a harsh blow to her friend — but a necessary one, she reminded herself — Carol then pointed over to the Gryffindor table. Discreetly, of course. "Well, that dream you had? With Harry giving flowers? I think you had the wrong girl. Look over there."

Harry was waving his wand gently, touching the tip to the back of the flower, a gesture Carol recognized as that of a Temporary Sticking charm. With ginger fingers, he gently pressed the offering next to Gryffindor crest over Hermione's heart, obviously intending her to wear it for the day. And even though their words didn't carry, the looks they gave one another spoke clearly.

Glancing to Julia, Carol had the satisfaction of seeing a crestfallen look of anguish, followed by a soft whimper. Julia's romantic nature wouldn't have missed the looks Harry and Hermione were exchanging. _I'm sorry, Julia,_ she thought, _but you really need to get over this._ The crown was seeing Hermione lean over and give a brief kiss to Harry's cheek, probably in thanks. Still, Carol wasn't completely heartless; she reached over and squeezed Julia's hand.

"It wasn't meant to be, dear."

* * *

The seventh year students still taking Care of Magical Creatures were on their way back from Hagrid's hut when Hermione noticed Ginny loitering outside the castle pacing back and forth. Hearing the commotion of students heading her way, Ginny glanced up and, with a herculean effort, stilled the grin threatening to blow her prank.

Hermione came to where Ginny had waved her over. Ginny's expression was a mixture of deep thought and worry, capped with a frown. Not a good sign. She leaned close. "Ginny, is something wrong?" she asked quietly.

"No, nothing's wrong," said Ginny with a carefully schooled look of contemplation. "I was just thinking about Harry . . . ."

Ginny sensed Hermione stiffening up.

"What about Harry?" said Hermione, with a forced casualness.

"Well, I've been giving this a lot of thought and, as his best friend, I thought I should talk to you first."

Hermione was starting to feel a curl of frustration. _Why won't she just spit it out?_ she thought.

"Hermione, I think— I think Harry is gay."

"WHAT?!"

Half-expecting a confession that she still fancied Harry (an admission she wasn't quite sure how she would respond to), Hermione was totally unprepared for what Ginny just said. Her jaw dropped, looking as if she were hit in the back of her head with a bludger bat.

"Hear me out! I was thinking about why Harry doesn't seem to show any interest in girls, and it's the only logical explanation. And I should also point out that I'm not making any judgements. I'll still care for Harry, no matter what."

"Ginny, I _really_ don't think—" began Hermione, her sensibilities terribly offended.

"First," said Ginny, riding right over Hermione's objections, "we have the disaster that was Cho. He was so awkward around her, even though she was practically throwing herself at him. Just one kiss and a terrible Valentine's date, not to mention being backstabbed by that cow of a friend, Marietta, is not much of a first step in dating women."

"Cho was right mess at the time, it's not Harry's fault she—"

"Then there was Luna, who was mostly a comfort girlfriend. They broke up at Christmas after only, what, four months? And again, only one kiss."

"Harry knew that it wouldn't work with Luna!" exclaimed Hermione. "That's why they broke it off!"

"Third, is my time with Harry at the beginning of this school year," Ginny went on, touching a third finger as she counted out her reasons, "Which was even shorter. We broke up last Hallowe'en after a little over two months. Now, I'll grant you, we did a lot more snogging — and a little groping — but he was always . . . I don't know, his heart wasn't quite into it as much as his hormones were."

Hermione goggled at Ginny's clinical description of the brief relationship with her long-time crush. "Ginny—"

"And then the Yule Ball during the Tournament, he dumps his date — one of the prettiest girls in your year — and what does he do? He leaves the Ball with Ron! They spent time _alone_ outside, then back in the Great Hall in the corner talking to themselves until the Ball was done. He was a Tournament champion; he had girls asking _him_ out, and he spends it with his best mate."

"Now wait just one minute!" Hermione broke in with a heated objection. "They weren't off having a romantic interlude or something, they found out that Madame Maxime was a half-giant and that Karkaroff was friendly with Snape because they were both Death Eaters!"

Continuing on, as if Hermione was silent the whole time, Ginny added, "Let's also not forget that there are any number of girls who would gladly be on Harry's arm _now_ , but can't quite seem to get his attention no matter how many buttons on their blouse they 'accidentally' leave undone or how short their skirts get."

Hermione had to at least mentally concede that one, thinking of Julia in the girls' toilets yesterday. She knew it was only her presence at times that kept some of the vultures at bay. _Slags, all of them. Harry deserves better._

"He's the most eligible wizard in the British isles, and he's single," Ginny concluded. "Now what other reason can there be, but the obvious?"

The onslaught of Ginny's well-thought, logical arguments was a little much for Hermione. Everything Ginny said was perfectly true, but— "You're wrong," she said firmly. "Harry's _not_ gay. He's just . . . he's just Harry!"

"Hermione," said Ginny patiently, "Harry's just a boy, a boy with hormones of his own and a wizarding society that doesn't look too kindly on wizards and witches who, shall we say, play Seeker for the other team. You've been his one constant female friend for ages. Has he ever tried to tickle you? Or grope you? Or pinch your backside? Try to peek down your blouse, or up your skirt?"

The thought of Harry carrying out such prurient actions was too much at odds with the Harry that Hermione knew. "No, of course not!"

"See?" said Ginny, as if pointing out the obvious. "Boys do that sort of thing. I know Ron has."

Hermione gave a little smirk. _That figures._ "Whose skirt did Ron try to look up? Let me guess — Lavender's? Fleur's?

Ginny gave suppressed grin to Hermione's questions. "Yours — when he fancied you." Hermione's smirk fell right off. "The twins and I used to tease him about it. _'So, Ronniekins, what colour knickers is Hermione wearing today?'_ I think his favourite were the white cotton with little flowers, but you'd have to ask him."

_That little wanker!_ thought Hermione, feeling her cheeks heat up in indignation.

"Sorry, Hermione, we would've told you, but you were his best friend and we didn't think it'd be right to put you in that spot." Ginny leaned over and gently patted Hermione's arm. "We wanted Ron to embarrass himself with you."

"Whatever," said Hermione dismissively, her cheeks still pink. _Ron is so going to get an earful when next I see him._ "It's all in the past. But you're absolutely wrong about Harry. The explanation is simple: Harry's not like other boys. When has he ever been like other boys?" _I wonder what knickers Harry would like._

_Whoa. Where'd that come from?_ Hermione shook the disturbingly stray thought away.

"Harry's past, and his powers, may not be like other boys, true," Ginny conceded. "But he's still a boy. Boys like girls. Is there any flaw in my facts? Is there a flaw in my logic? I'm merely applying that technique you taught me . . . what was it called again? Occam's Razor? Harry being gay is the one explanation that doesn't require any more assumptions than necessary."

_She's got a point,_ Hermione's inner logical voice piped in.

_Shut it, you!_ Hermione shot back.

_You know, I'm starting to feel like you're neglecting me. You haven't been like this since Vik—_

_I said shut up!_

"Hermione?" Ginny interrupted her inner dialogue, looking concerned. "Are you all right? I'm sorry if this upset you."

"I'm not upset," replied Hermione, clearly upset. Then, getting to her feet, "I need to get back to my revising."

"Okay," said Ginny, sounding apologetic. "I just thought I should talk to you first. Anyway, good luck with your revising — I know NEWTs are in a couple of weeks."

Hermione grunted some vaguely affirmative response before making her way to the Common Room, taking a deep-seated chair by the fire and settling a stack of books on her lap. She opened the first book, but her thoughts were so far from studying that it was nearly half an hour before she realized that not only was she still staring at the same page, the book was upside-down.

* * *

It took all of Ginny's self-control not to simply explode as she left Hermione and retreated to her dorm. Closing the door, she drew the curtains on her bed, cast a Silencing spell before collapsing onto her mattress in a fit of giggles that lasted for many long minutes. She squirmed, pounded her bed with fists and foot as tears of the mischief managed streamed down her cheeks.

Finally, when her stomach was aching from the repeated contractions of her laughter, she rolled onto her side and mentally reviewed the five minutes with Hermione in the Common Room. _Oh, Merlin, I'm so bad. If only I had a camera to catch Hermione's face!_

Part of her mind — a very small part — felt guilty at pulling the prank she just did. The rest of it was already drafting a letter to the twins to explain what she and Ron were doing.

Smiling, she dispelled the Silencing charm and rooted around her bookbag for a quill and some parchment.

> _My favourite twin brothers—_
> 
> _Let me catch you up on what me and Ron are up to with Harry and Hermione . . . ._

* * *

Leave it to Lavender and Parvati to simultaneously bring Hermione out of a mood, and then stick her right back into one.

Hermione was still preoccupied with her discussion with Ginny when Lavender's voice pierced through her bubble of contemplation.

"Ooooh, what a beautiful flower! My favourite colour, too!"

Hermione shook her head and looked up to see Lavender and Parvati looking intently at her jumper. Glancing down, she saw the orchid Harry had given her that morning; a warm elation filled her chest at the memory, banishing moody thoughts that Ginny had inserted. She smiled.

"Where'd you get it?" That was Parvati, who was lightly fingering a petal, admiring the texture.

"Harry gave it to me. An apology gift." There was no sense in trying to make up a story for these two.

Two pairs of eyes swung up to look at her in surprise, questions brimming.

"Really? Not as a gift that someone gives, say, their girlfriend?"

"No," said Hermione firmly. "I told you, nothing's going on with Harry. How many times do I have to say it?"

"Then why the flower?"

"He upset me yesterday, so this is his way of saying 'I'm sorry.'" said Hermione. "It's what boys do when they upset a girl."

"That's not what boys do!" Parvati laughed. "I know of no boys that do that!"

"Yeah," said Lavender, jumping in. "You and Ron have rowed loads of times, and he's never given you flowers afterwards." Both girls arched their perfectly plucked brows in expectation.

Hermione shrugged helplessly. "What do you want me to say? Harry's . . . ."

"Hermione, it's pretty uncommon for boys around here to give flowers to their girlfriends on any day except Valentine's Day," said Parvati. "Yet here you are, sporting a beautiful blossom from a boy who you say is only your best mate? If we seem to think there's something fishy, can you blame us?"

Parvati had a point; it _was_ pretty unusual for Harry to give flowers, after all. But, despite the odd circumstances, and her discussion with Ginny, Hermione was floating on air for much of the day, wearing Harry's orchid like a talisman.

Clearly stuck for an answer, Lavender spared her the task of trying to explain further. "So, where did Harry get the orchid?"

"Actually, that's a good question," said Hermione after a moment of thought and a frown.

Lavender gave a dramatic gasp, flashing a grin to Parvati. "Merlin's beard, something that Hermione Granger doesn't know? Alert the Daily Prophet!"

Hermione rolled her eyes as her two roommates giggled. Glancing at her watch — a defensive mechanism to get out of uncomfortable company — Hermione gasped and began quickly packing her book bag. "Nearly time for rounds for the juniors," she said, referring to the first through fourth years that weren't allowed out of their Common Rooms in the evening. "I've got to find Ginny." And with that, the Head Girl hurried up to the girls' dorms.

Lavender and Parvati exchanged knowing grins. "Smitten," they said simultaneously.

* * *

For the second night in a row, Harry lingered in the Common Room, waiting for a chance to talk to Hermione alone. And, for the second night in a row, he had forgotten Hermione's schedule for supervising the Prefects. It was getting on into the night when this thought finally dawned on him, so he settled in with one of his notebooks and began re-reading.

When the room was mostly empty, he stretched out onto his stomach on one of the sofas, his chin propped up on his hands and his notebook leaning against the sofa's arm. It was a comfortable way to study — perhaps a little too comfortable, as he was nodding off before he had read another half-dozen pages.

Crookshanks wandered into the Common Room and caught the scent of one of his favourite human cushions still in the room. Padding over to the sofa, he was a little disappointed to see Harry face-down. Still, making the best of a bad situation, Crookshanks leaped up onto the small of Harry's back, walked in a circle and curled up with his tail around him, settling into a softly purring ginger pillow.

It was this scene that Hermione and Ginny found as they returned late from their patrols. Both girls smiled at the sight, though Ginny had the presence of mind to glance over to Hermione's reaction; Hermione's eyes were solely on Harry.

They tiptoed quietly to the sofa where Harry and Crookshanks rumbled softly in slumber. Crookshanks sensed their approach, lifted his furry head and purred loudly in greeting to his owner. Kneeling by the couch at Harry's midriff, Hermione reached out and scratched her cat between the ears.

"Aww, did you miss me, sweetie? Would you like me to pet you? Yes, mommy loves you too," Hermione murmured softly.

What with Crookshanks being a cat, Hermione certainly didn't expect an answer beyond more purring; so it was to her very great surprise when she did get a response to her cooing.

"Why, Hermione, I had no idea you felt that way about my buttocks."

Both Ginny and Hermione's hands paused in their petting to gasp, then saw the source of the voice — Harry's sleepy green eyes twinkled as he looked over his shoulder to the two girls.

Ginny immediately fell to the floor giggling, while Hermione's cheeks flamed in mortification at what Harry must've been thinking as he woke up. She quickly snatched her hand away from Crookshank's back, which was perilously close to said buttocks. Crookshanks looked a little put out at the cessation of the petting.

Half-twisting, Harry saw Crookshanks seated primly on his lower back and realized what was happening. He joined in with Ginny's mirth, grinning at Hermione who was desperately trying not to meet Harry's eyes.

"Crookshanks, I'm turning over," he said to the cat. As if understanding, Crookshanks hopped off and rubbed his head against Hermione while Harry sat up. "Sorry, but it did sound pretty strange from where I was," laughed Harry.

"I'll leave you Heads alone, then," said Ginny as she got up and dusted her skirt. "And don't worry, Hermione, loads of girls feel that way about Harry's backside."

Hermione's head shot up to give her a You're-Not-Helping look; Ginny just grinned cheekily and waved both of them a 'good night' and disappeared up the stairs. Hermione was still blushing when she felt Harry take her hand and gently pulled her up into the sofa next to him.

"I'm sorry," said Harry softly again, though there were still traces of amusement in his voice. "So, er, how was your day?" he asked gently, sincerely hoping he hadn't just earned another flower apology.

Summoning all the dignity she could muster, Hermione finally looked up to answer Harry; then faltered momentarily as their gazes locked. "It was good," she said with small smile.

"Great," said Harry with an inward sigh of relief. "So . . . you're still wearing my flower."

Glancing down, she spotted the bloom, looking decidedly more wilted than it was early that morning; still, her smile broadened at its sight. "Yes. Thank you for that, by the way."

A silence fell between then, an awkwardness they knew they hadn't experienced since they first became friends, way back in the girls bathroom and the escaped troll that fateful Hallowe'en. Harry could hear Ron's voice echoing in the back of his mind. _Just tell her, you daft git!_

"Harry—"

"Hermione—"

They spoke at the same time, but Harry gestured for her to continue.

"I've been meaning to ask, where did you get it?" said Hermione, lightly stroking the orchid's petals.

"Oh. Neville got it for me. He's been helping Professor Sprout set up Greenhouse One for the summer, and he told me the other day that it's mostly decorative flowers, since there are no students around.

"Ah. What did you want to ask?"

Sadly, Goderic Gryffindor's courage was quite absent in the Tower that day, and even before opening his mouth, he knew he was going to chicken out once again. He kicked his inner self. "Just wanted to end the Sticking Charm." Taking his wand out, he pointed it at the flower. " _Finite,_ " he intoned and caught the orchid as it slid off her chest.

He held it out to Hermione and as she took it, their fingers brushed and lingered for longer than necessary. Harry's chest tightened at the contact which, all of a sudden, seemed far more intimate than he would have ever suspected.

"Thanks," she said quietly, cupping the flower gently. Harry was breefly speechless at her smile.

"Yes. Well, it's pretty late, so, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" he laughed nervously as he stood up. "Only one class, so I guess we'll get in loads of revising, eh?"

Rising with him, Hermione blinked and nodded. "Right. Well, good night, then, Harry." Then, just as he had hoped, she leaned up and brushed him a soft kiss on his cheek before following Ginny up the stairs.

It took him a good minute to gather his wits, and he was profoundly grateful that the Common Room was empty. If it hadn't been, he wouldn't have needed Ron to out his secret.

So, with his mind still full of Hermione's gaze, her smile and her kiss, he dressed got ready for bed. And when he was between his sheets, ready to enjoy the dreams he knew were on their way, Ron called over in a whisper.

"So?"

"Shut up," said Harry, feeling the smugness radiating from Ron.

"Three down, four to go."

Harry gave a shaky sigh. _This is the Yule Ball all over again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Occam's Razor is a principle that comes up a lot in Philosophy 101 classes. An explanation, from Wikipedia, is as follows:
> 
> In its simplest form, Occam's Razor states that one should make no more assumptions than needed. Put into everyday language, it says The simplest explanation is the best. When multiple explanations are available for a phenomenon, the simplest version is preferred. For example, a charred tree on the ground could be caused by a landing alien ship or a lightning strike. According to Occam's Razor, the lightning strike is the preferred explanation as it requires the fewest assumptions.


	5. Day 4

"Harry? Wake up!"

There are certain days when being woken up by anyone is really annoying. After a hangover, for instance. Or after only a few hours of sleep. Or, in Harry's case, during some deliciously inappropriate dreams about one's best friend — and not the red-headed one.

Unfortunately for Harry, the voice was the first yank towards consciousness — not quite the whole way, but enough that he was just barely aware that he was no longer fully seated in dreamland. He fought to keep a slippery grasp onto that dreamlike state.

He could vaguely sense the presence of someone seating themselves next to him at his bedside. The damned urging voice, taking him away from his dream.

"Harry, you're going to miss breakfast. Wake up already!"

A warm hand shook his shoulder and he was dragged a little closer to consciousness. _Dammit!_

"Go 'way, Ron," Harry rasped, swatting his arm in the general direction of the voice.

Thinking that should make his intentions clear, Harry dropped his arm limply back to the bed. Only when it came down, his palm slapped against something — it wasn't cloth. No, it felt rounded; smooth; soft. It felt nice. What was it?

With his eyes still closed and only half-awake, his fingers gingerly probed around and determined there was more in the general vicinity. He was beginning to slide his palm up when a gasp sounded and a hand closed firmly around his wrist. It was accompanied by a very familiar voice — the same voice in the dream that was all but gone now.

"Harry—"

Harry's eyes flew open, full consciousness flooding in. That was Hermione! In the flesh! Breathing in deeply, he caught a familiar floral scent that he knew was hers and sat up suddenly.

For the rest of the day, Harry debated whether or not that was such a good idea. Why? Because this action brought him to within inches of Hermione's surprised face. He blinked away sleep as her blurry features came mostly into focus. He then followed her gaze downwards to where she was holding his hand firm. What he saw made saucers of his eyes and brought a heat to his cheeks that made him want to crawl back under the sheets and hide for the rest of the day.

His hand on Hermione's knee. Actually, it was more like an inch or two above her knee — that was the soft, rounded, smooth thing he felt a moment ago. It was her thigh that he was beginning to slide his hand up when she stopped him. Even now, his fingertips here hidden under the hem of her skirt; the sight roused several vivid reminders of the dream he just finished.

"Erm, Harry, it's customary to ask a girl out and buy her dinner before getting to do that."

Harry snatched his hand away, averting his eyes. The heat from his cheeks spread down his neck.

"Merlin, Hermione, I _swear_ I didn't know— I would never— I mean—" he babbled.

"It's okay, Harry," said Hermione, patting his hand. "You were still half-asleep."

He flinched slightly at the contact. _At least she doesn't sound mad. Thank you, thank you._

For the second time in as many days there was another awkward silence between them that wasn't caused by Ron. Harry was far too embarrassed to look at her, mostly due to the fact that he enjoyed the accidental feel more than he should have.

"Well, you should get up. Breakfast will be over soon," she said to break the silence. "I'll wait for you in the Common Room."

Hermione was up and halfway to the door when Harry finally found his voice.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" she said, stopping.

"I'm sorry about that, I really am."

She flashed him a wry, lopsided smile that sent small flutters into Harry's already growling stomach. "Don't worry about it."

"Well, I don't know about dinner, but . . . d'you want to go with me to Hogsmeade tomorrow? I'll buy you lunch," Harry found himself asking before he was even aware that he wanted to ask. "It's our last visit this year. Actually, our last visit ever, from Hogwarts."

Hermione blinked at him, then gave him a warm smile. The flutters and growling increased in his stomach. "Sure. Now get dressed. I can hear your stomach from here. It's starting to sound like Ron."

Harry laughed and waved Hermione out of the dorm room. And as he gathered what he needed for a shower (a cold one, given his interrupted dreams), he fought hard to keep a grin from fixing itself to his face. Sure, he still hadn't confessed his feelings, but hey— a date with his crush wasn't bad.

* * *

Down in the Great Hall, Ginny was regaling Harry's buttocks comments to Ron and Luna over breakfast. Ron nearly choked on his eggs while Luna's laughter drew curious looks from nearby breakfasters.

"That was brilliant!" said Ron once he could speak again. "What did Hermione say?"

"Nothing. She was red in the face until I left them alone," Ginny grinned. "I told her not to worry, since loads of girls would love to be that close to Harry's buttocks."

"He does have nice buttocks," said Luna in a dreamy, off-handed manner.

"Yes, he does," Ginny sighed reminiscently. "I wanted to squeeze them all the time and—"

"Because they were terribly firm?" asked Luna.

"Of course! I remember when—"

Ron started looking a little uncomfortable as his sister and girlfriend discussed his best friend's backside. It didn't help that both girls had gone out with Harry in the past.

"I think you were lucky, Ginny. I didn't get to enjoy them very much," Luna was saying.

"Hey! I'm right here, you know!" Ron objected. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Wait, you got to enjoy them at all?" said Ginny, ignoring her brother's discomfort.

"Just once or twice, near the end."

"Still more than most," said Ginny with a grin. "Luckily, I got to—"

"All right! No more talking about Harry's buttocks!" growled Ron, glaring at both girls.

"Ronald has nice buttocks, too," said Luna, calmly changing gears. Ron flushed lightly at the compliment. "He doesn't mind when I—"

"Okay, I'm going to stop you right there," said Ginny hastily. "I'm not about to talk about Ron's buttocks."

"Do you think it's a Quidditch player thing?" mused Luna. "I'd imagine all that flying and broom-handling, that the buttocks get rather well worked on."

"We could 'test' our theory on some other Quidditch players...." said Ginny with a look in her eye that Ron recognized all too well. To his dismay, Luna also looked interested.

"No," Ron said firmly.

Luna's shoulders fell slightly in disappointment. Ron relaxed, but Luna's next comment had him tensing up again. And, given Luna's uncanny ability for vocalizing thoughts best kept quiet, he could only brace himself for the unknown.

"Do you think it's the same is for girl Quidditch players?" Luna asked.

"I don't know. Why don't you ask Ron about that? He likes looking at their backsides," said Ginny, flashing Ron a smirk.

"I do not!" protested Ron.

"Ah, right. You just like looking down their shirts when they bend over," laughed Ginny.

"Is that true?" said Luna, her large eyes blinking at Ron. "Should I leave my blouse a little more undone?" As she said this, she brought her fingers to her topmost buttons, fingering the first one.

"No! No, that's not, er, necessary," said Ron in strangled tones as she caught Luna's hands and gently put them back onto the table. He shot Ginny a dark look as she snickered at him.

"Oh, all right." Luna gave him a warm smile, making Ron flush. Then, returning to the original conversation, "But I'm still curious about Quidditch effects on female players. Wait . . . Ginny, you play Quidditch. Perhaps I could feel your—"

Ron was squarely back in uncomfortable territory when he spotted Harry and Hermione walking towards them from the Great Hall entrance. "Oh, thank Merlin for small miracles . . . ." he muttered as he waved his best friends over.

Hermione seemed particularly buoyant, and Harry looked faintly embarrassed about something, when they arrived. Ron was smiling at their arrival, since it interrupted Luna and Ginny's conversation about Quidditch players' buttocks; but when Hermione's sunny face turned into a scowl, he found himself facing an angry friend.

"You!" barked Hermione, dropping her laden bookbag onto the table and pointing an imperious finger at Ron. "Outside! You and I are going to have an abrupt conversation."

Ron looked flabbergasted and stumbled along when Hermione grabbed one sleeve, yanked him to his feet and frog-marched him to the main entrance. "Wait, what did I do?" he protested.

At the table, Ginny had a hand over her mouth, trying to keep her giggling from bursting out into all-out laughter. Harry stared at their retreating forms, caught by surprise at Hermione's rather unexpected reaction. Luna merely blinked serenely, then went back to her breakfast.

"What was that about?" asked Harry a moment later, ladling some food onto his plate.

"Maybe Hermione wanted a snog and thought it'd look less suspicious if she was mad," Ginny said casually. With a discreet look, she smiled to herself as Harry paused mid-air with his goblet of pumpkin juice.

"I'd imagine Ronald made some inappropriate remarks yesterday and upset Hermione," said an unruffled Luna. "He doesn't always realize it when he does."

"Yes, you're probably right," said Harry who was beginning to look a little doubtful. "Besides, Ron's dating Luna. Hermione wouldn't do something like that."

"So, what were you and Hermione talking about?" asked Ginny. "You two looked rather . . . happy about something."

Harry shifted nervously in his seat and summoned his calmest sounding voice. "Nothing, really. Just talking about Hogsmeade tomorrow."

"So, are you going with anyone?" said Ginny with a teasing tone.

"Just– just Hermione." That didn't sound nervous at all. Nope.

"Just Hermione, eh? You know, it's supposed to be a weekend to relax, not study even more. Why not bring someone else? Plenty of your fans right here in Hogwarts who'd love a drink with you. Maybe a little more? You know, like our visits earlier this year?" Ginny managed to sound innocent, all the while thinking, _If teasing Harry like this was any more fun, it'd be illegal._

Just the thought of their snogfests when they were going out had Harry looking a little flushed. It was then that Luna decided to spare poor Harry.

"Harry, we know about Hermione," she said gently. "We also know about Ron's plans."

Ginny gave Luna a small pout. "Luna! You weren't supposed to tell him! How are we supposed to have fun now?"

Harry, meanwhile, was looking aghast that, of all people, these two would know about his now not-so-secret crush on his best friend. "Well, that was predictable of him," he muttered, looking a little put out.

"Oh, come on, Harry, who better to help you get the girl?" Ginny grinned.

"Yes, who better than my two ex-girlfriends?"

"Well, if it can't be one of us, at least it's someone we approve of, and not one of your fangirls," said Ginny. "Besides, we think she'd be an excellent addition to the Harry Potter Snog Society."

At that, Harry did begin to choke on his pumpkin juice, and began coughing to clear his throat. Luna helpfully slapped his back.

"The _what_?" he gasped.

"The Harry Potter Snog Society," Ginny repeated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It's very exclusive. Only three members so far."

"Those being?"

"Me and Luna, of course."

"And?"

"Cho Chang," supplied Luna.

"Ah, of course," Harry reached for a napkin and was wiping down his pumpkin juice accident when he gave Ginny a strange look. "I can't believe you actually gave a name to girls I've snogged."

"Well, it's better than the Girls Who Have Kissed Harry Potter Club, which is less prestigious," she began. "Mind you, it's still a step up from the regular Harry Potter Fan Club. The kissing club has people like my mum, Fleur—"

"Hermione," Luna added.

"Yes, Hermione," said Ginny, "And that fourth year who caught you under mistletoe this past Christmas and kissed your nose."

Harry just stared at Ginny and Luna, giving them looks for astonishment. He had never really catalogued a list of girls who he had kissed, or had kissed him, so it was really rather a shock to realize that other people had.

"She was very popular for a little while in Ravenclaw," said Luna, "because nobody else managed to catch you under mistletoe."

"So, you see, if anybody from that group deserves a promotion to the Harry Potter Snog Society, it's Hermione," said Ginny. "Because if you say my mum, I'm going to be returning my breakfast onto your lap."

Harry just shook his head and went about eating his breakfast. _Maybe if I just pretend none of this is happening, it'll all go away._ But, Ginny being Ginny, that wasn't going to happen.

"Anyway, I've got some tips for you, so listen up . . . ."

Ginny didn't get far in her advice for Harry when Hermione returned . . . without Ron, it seemed. His absence didn't go unnoticed.

"Where's Ron?" asked Harry.

"He said he forgot his Charms homework in your dorm," replied Hermione in an airy manner.

"I _knew_ I forgot something!" Harry exclaimed as he scrambled off the bench. "I better go get it. I'll see you in Charms!" he called out to Hermione.

Back at her seat, Hermione was calmly stacking some toast to bring to class, seeing as she spent most of the scant minutes of breakfast dressing down Ron. "Well, I'll get to class early at least," she said. "I'll see you later." Then, pausing for a moment with a smirk forming on her lips, she leaned down to Ginny.

"By the way, I got some proof this morning disproving your theory," Hermione told Ginny.

Ginny laughed softly at Luna's puzzlement; she hadn't told Luna what she told Hermione yesterday. "How's that?" she asked as she took a sip of her tea.

"Oh, he tried to feel me up this morning when I went to wake him up," Hermione dropped casually. And with that, she began walking to the entranceway.

Unfortunately for Luna, Ginny coughed and sprayed tea all over her at the sheer unexpectedness of this announcement. By the time her lungs forgave her for trying to drown herself, Hermione was gone. "She— she's joking, surely," she said faintly.

Luna calmly waved her wand and spoke the incantation to clean up the mess Ginny made. "Why?" she asked. "It wouldn't be the first time Harry did that to a girl he liked." She looked at Ginny significantly.

Ginny had the grace not to look too embarrassed at the reminder. "But it's Hermione! I mean, he can't even say that he fancies her! No, she's just getting me back for yesterday. . . ."

* * *

Charms was as chaotic as it normally was. Given that exams were close by, their lessons consisted largely of review of material from their entire time at Hogwarts, along with copious amounts of time for practice. Diminutive Professor Flitwick walked (or floated) around the classroom, assisting students with pronunciation and gestures for some of the more difficult spells.

One corner he didn't need to visit much was the Gryffindor section of class. Having girded themselves for their NEWTs with Hermione's grilling the past week, they were better prepared than some of the other Houses.

This, of course, meant that their attention wandered from their spellwork and theory.

"Dean, what in Merlin's name is that?" Ron pointed to one of those crazy non-moving Muggle pictures that was spell-o-taped inside one of Dean's notebooks.

"Oh, they're my girls," he grinned. Seeing Ron's uncomprehending looks, he clarified. "They're the Spice Girls. Muggle band, they've been on the radio a lot."

"Ray dee oh?" said Ron, feeling the unfamiliar word out. "Oh! I think dad has one of those. Are those the things that do moving pictures for Muggles?"

"Nah, that's television. Radio is the wireless network for Muggles."

"Ahh. So, those girls are on the r-radio?" He looked at the picture sideways.

"Yeah, everyone's supposed to have their favourite one. I like this one," said Dean, tapping the picture.

"That's a band?" said Ron, looking at the picture dubiously. "They look more like. . . I dunno, a bunch of slags you'd find in a bad section of Knockturn Alley. You know, if you want to pay for . . . ." He made a suggestive gesture with his hands.

"Well, Ron, if that's what you want, what you really, really want. . . ." said Dean with a grin.

Ron just looked at Dean as if he asked to borrow a tutu. Seamus, Harry and Hermione, who were Muggle-raised to various degrees, and therefore got the reference, groaned in unison.

Ron looked at all of them, perplexed. "What?"

"Forget it, Ron, Muggle joke," said Harry, shaking his head.

Dean continued to bombard his fellow Muggle-raised Housemates with Spice Girls quotes until Harry reminded him that he'd have to sleep at some point and that they _did_ share quarters. Under threat of nocturnal payback, Dean went back to flipping through his notes with a smirk.

With fifteen minutes left in the class, Hermione was called out by some Hufflepuff classmate for help while Professor Flitwick helped another student with Banishment Charms. Ron took the opportunity to lean over to Harry to have a quiet conversation over the noise.

"So?" he asked Harry.

"So. . . what?"

Rolling his eyes, Ron nodded his head to Hermione's back.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Harry cleared his throat and delayed an answer. "AskedhertoHogsmeadethismorning."

"What?"

"I said, I asked her to Hogsmeade this morning," Harry enunciated with a growl.

"That's it?"

Harry glared at Ron who, predictably, was giving him poorly concealed grin. "This is hard enough without you, you know."

"Yeah, I know, but it's for your own good. And, I'm having fun."

 _There are days when I wish I never met any of the Weasleys,_ Harry thought to himself.

* * *

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, aside from the occasional ribbing from Ron and Ginny. Luna tried to be helpful, in her way, though Harry wasn't entirely sure he wanted her help. He recalled a mid-afternoon conversation as they strolled along the hallways to the Great Hall for afternoon tea.

_"Harry, I know you're nervous, but you I don't think you should be. I think it will all work out very well," said Luna_

_"Well, nervousness doesn't work like that, Luna, but thanks," replied Harry with a wry smile._

_"Would it help if I cheered you on? I could get my lion hat."_

_A scene flashed in his head: an intimate moment with Hermione, with the words he wanted to say on his lips. Then, a hatted Luna showing up, roaring and waving a Gryffindor banner while Ron and Ginny snickered in the background._

Harry shook his head from the surreal thought.

"Daydreaming again?"

That most unwelcome voice — Ron's — broke into Harry's consciousness. Sighing, he turned to his best friend, who plopped down onto the couch next to him. "I was trying to forget something, for your information."

"Yeah, sure," laughed Ron.

"Aren't you late for a snogging appointment?" asked Harry pointedly.

Ron glanced over to a mantle clock and leaped to his feet. "Hey, you're right! You've got rounds this evening, too. Ha!"

A thought came to Harry and, with smug look, he called out. "Hey, Ron!"

"Yeah?" Ron looked over his shoulder.

"When you're snogging Luna tonight, just remember — you're snogging those lips which have been on my lips."

Ron stood there as he absorbed what Harry just said. Harry smirked at Ron as his best friend's eyes widened in realization. Speechless, Ron just stood there, jaw dropped.

Then, just to rub it in, Harry made kissy faces at Ron and tapped his watch.

"That was mean," Ginny's laughing voice came from behind Harry as they watched Ron stumble out of the Common Room looking pole-axed.

"He's been rubbing in his stupid deadline a lot. Can't let him get away with it."

"Of course not."

"He's right, though. I have rounds to do, so I guess I should round up whichever Prefects are on duty tonight." As he collected his books, he was still distracted by thoughts that had nothing to do with homework or rounds. It was all about Hogsmeade. And Hermione.

Ginny could guess Harry's distracted state.

"Say, Harry?" said Ginny just as Harry turned to leave.

"Yeah?"

"If you want to impress Hermione tomorrow, just remember its 'a dog-eat-dog world', not 'a doggy-dog world'."

Harry blinked at the Bludger-out-of-nowhere advice Ginny just gave. "Really?"

"Yep," Ginny nodded gravely. "If Sirius were alive, he'd agree."

Frowning, Harry said, "Wait, so all those times I've been saying 'doggy-dog world', I was wrong? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought it was funny," she grinned.

"I feel stupid!" protested Harry.

"Bonus!" cried Ginny all too cheerfully for Harry's liking.

Grumbling, Harry left to go do his evening rounds to the sound of a giggling Ginny behind him.

* * *

Sleep was proving difficult to find that night. Not only was it his anticipated Hogsmeade weekend with Hermione, but Dean's mentioning of the Spice Girls got their songs stuck in his head, as only overplayed pop songs are wont to do.

Thankfully, Ron was already asleep, so Harry was spared the daily countdown and evening commentary. But to Harry's dismay, his mind supplied the words in Ron's voice anyway:

_Four down, three to go._

As he followed the rest of his roommates into slumber, he tried to think positive thoughts about his plans for tomorrow.

_Candle light and soul forever,  
A dream of you and me together,  
Say you believe it, say you believe it  
Free your mind of doubt and danger,  
Be for real, don't be a stranger  
We can achieve it, we can achieve it _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, this is a 7th Year fic, so it's 1998. The Spice Girls were huuuuuuge.


	6. Day 5

Anxiousness.

Anxiousness will keep you up at nights and for Wizarding hero Harry Potter, anxiousness didn't make an exception. His anxiousness, of course, was the upcoming hours of his last Hogsmeade visit (as a student) and the girl he was going to be taking out.

Hermione.

Since it was near midsummer, the sun had been up over the horizon for a little while, streaming in some light through the windows. Harry's bed curtains were pulled back slightly to take it in, but he lay there, restless and sleepless to the soft cacophony of snoring coming from his Housemates' enclosed beds. It was like being a conductor of sleeping musicians.

At least the Spice Girls songs were out of his head.

Abandoning any pretense of sleep, Harry spent the half-hour playing scenario after scenario in his head. _Where should I be when I tell her? Should I do it somewhere quiet? Somewhere busy? Somewhere romantic? Should I be holding her hand? What if...? What if...? What if...?_

Question after question tumbled through his already confused mind until he glanced over at his bedside clock — 6:15 AM. Entirely too early to be worrying about a headache, for sure.

"Well, I'm not getting any sleep here. Might as well get something useful done," he muttered to himself. Pulling on a jumper, Harry yawned and padded his way to the cool, empty Common Room.

Waiting there for him in a large bag on top of one of the tables — fan mail. Ever since his defeat of the Dark Lord, wizards and witches from all over England, and even the rest of the world, sent him letters by the pound. Rather than deal with an excess of mail each morning during the normal owl delivery at breakfast, Hermione suggested that Harry set aside some time each weekend morning to sort and answer those letters he wanted to answer.

Although the volume had lessened in the weeks since Voldemort's demise, Harry (assisted by Ron and Hermione, of course) spent a good couple of hours on Sundays trying to get through it all. Harry was just finishing his first handful (with several piles in front of him: one for marriage proposals, one for business proposals, one for autographs, one for letters needing no response) when Dobby came through the Fat Lady portal dragging a second bag of post.

Harry groaned at the sight. "Oh, kill me now, a _second_ bag?"

Dobby brought the second sack over with an apologetic look to Harry. "Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter, sir. People is sending sir many letters. If only Dobby could help...."

Sighing, Harry kicked the sack under the table and gave Dobby a wry smile. "It's not your fault, Dobby, or your problem. Thanks anyway."

"Can Dobby bring Harry Potter some breakfast?" said Dobby, eager to be of use to his self-appointed saviour.

Harry thought about it a moment; Hermione's disapproval aside, he decided he could use something to perk him up. "Sure," he said. Smiling at Dobby's delighted look to be of use to Harry, he added, "Some coffee, and some pumpkin juice. Some breakfast would be good. Oh, and a covered plate for Hermione and Ron. We have to get through all this." He waved at the two bags with a grimace.

Dobby was off in a puff of smoke, no doubt running around the kitchen like a dervish to fill Harry's order. Shaking his head at having such a strange little friend, Harry went back to sorting his mail. A tap of his wand to open the envelope, a quick browse, and tossed to a pile. Tap, read, toss. Tap, read, toss.

A couple of hours later, Harry was solidly through the first bag while Ron and Hermione — who were awake by this point — rummaged through the second bag. Some of the earlier risers sat around the three Gryffindors while Ron or Harry read out some of the more juicy marriage proposals sent to the other, much to delight of the small crowd. Wisely, any marriage proposals sent to Hermione went unread.

"Hey, this one sent a picture. Let's see— whoa!" Ron was saying as he unfolded his latest picture. Seamus and Dean crowded near Ron to the picture and immediately went bug-eyed.

"Wow," they chorused.

"Let me see that," demanded Harry, snatching the photo away and glancing at it. His eyes went as wide as Ron, Dean and Seamus. He missed Hermione's frown.

" _'I never thought I'd send something like this in post, but I wanted to thank you for saving us from You Know Who'_ , said Ron, reading from the accompanying letter. _'I think you're really cute. If you're ever in town, look me up. Yours truly, Cindy Silverman, Bristol.'_ Hey, I have an admirer in Bristol!" he grinned.

"You're making that up," said Hermione with an eye-roll.

"What does that say?" said Ron challengingly, holding the letter up for her.

"It says, 'Dear Harry'."

Ron quickly glanced over at the envelope it came in, then the letter. "Damn," he muttered to laughter from Dean, Seamus and a few others nearby.

"You have a girlfriend, Ron!" said Hermione with a critical glare. She then glanced at Harry, who was still looking at the photo with his head tilted. She snatched the photo away from him. From across the table, Ron watched with great amusement.

"Hey!" Harry protested. "I was—"

"Ogling a perfect stranger?" said Hermione coolly.

"Well...." began Harry.

"We're never going to finish if you stop to look at pictures from every brainless blonde bint who sends you photos of herself half-naked," she said briskly.

At this point, even Harry could tell Hermione was irritated and he had to mentally concede that drooling over another girl in front of the girl you really wanted to impress was probably a bad idea. "You're right," he said meekly, picking up another letter and going through the motions of sorting more post. When Hermione finally stopped giving him a baleful eye, he glanced up to see Ron grinning at him. Harry shot daggers at him, letting Ron know in no uncertain terms that this was all somehow his fault.

The git just grinned even more.

_Great start to the morning, Potter._

* * *

"So?"

"Twelve."

"I counted fourteen."

"Fourteen? Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Look, there was the hug when she came down...."

Lavender and Parvati were getting ready for their Hogsmeade weekend while discussing — what else? — the 'Harry and Hermione' situation. Although they had plans of their own, the irresistible topic of their fellow Housemates always got the better of the pair.

"... and then the shoulder touch before everyone broke to get ready," Parvati concluded.

"Oh yeah. Well, let's see what they're up to," said Lavender with a giggle as she pulled out a notebook and flipped to the back. There, a private tally was being kept by the two — a count on how many touches Harry and Hermione exchanged that they knew of. Although a full and accurate count was likely impossible, it gave them some numbers to work with; the numbers were surprising.

"Ninety-four for the week," Lavender announced, entering a '14' into the most recent column.

"Wow, that's got to be a record!"

"Yep," grinned Lavender. "And the day's just started. I heard they're having lunch today."

"Who's having lunch today?" asked Hermione as she returned from her shower, towelling off her damp hair.

"You are," replied Parvati with a grin. "I heard with Terry Boot."

"No, no, it was Ernie," Lavender disagreed.

Giving her roommates an exasperated look and an all-too-familiar eye-roll, Hermione said, "Honestly! Doesn't anyone here have anything better to do than gossip about my Hogsmeade visits?"

"No," chorused the two, unabashedly.

"I'm going to supervise the Hogsmeade List with Filch, then do some shopping. Then I'm meeting Harry for lunch. That's all," said Hermione with some exasperation. She bent over her clothes chest to dig for something casual to wear; weekends were about the only time she did.

"With Harry, eh?"

Hermione grunted some affirmative as she pulled on a top.

"A _date_?" sing-songed Lavender, sharing a look with Parvati.

"He asked me to lunch because yesterday he fel— he said it'd be our last visit to Hogsmeade. You know, for old times' sake," Hermione replied.

Her stumble caught their attention, but neither Lavender nor Parvati pointed it out. "What about Ron?" Parvati asked shrewedly.

Hermione shrugged, pulling on some socks. "Probably off somewhere snogging with Luna, knowing them."

"They _do_ seem attached at the lips," smirked Lavender.

"So, it's a date, then," Parvati said with some finality. "Because Ron won't be there, and it's just you two."

"It's _not_ a date!"

"The next step in _The Harry Situation_ ," Parvati went on to say.

"There's no situation!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Sure there is! I just told it to you."

"Parvati, there is _no_ 'situation'," growled Hermione.

"It's already got a name, Hermione," said Parvati in a voice that said she was pointing out the obvious.

Hermione threw up her hands, snatched a few remaining items and stormed out of the room. Parvati and Lavender waited a good half-minute until it felt safe that Hermione wasn't coming back — at that point, they burst into gleeful giggles, collapsing on Lavender's bed.

"Too much fun," Lavender said after a long laugh, wiping tears from her eyes.

* * *

That morning, Hermione went down to the courtyard to spend an uncomfortable 45 minutes with Filch to screen all the students going to Hogwarts. Inexplicably, Hermione was reminded of a Christmas carol, 'making a list, checking it twice' when it came to Filch. That is, if Santa was an evil-smelling, foul-tempered curmudgeon that would be happier throwing bricks at students than giving them presents. She thought she would have Harry's company to help mitigate the old custodian's presence, but she was disappointed with his absence. By the time she was able to head to Hogwarts herself, she was wearing a frown and carrying a bit of Filch's mood with her.

She was just barely stepping into the village when a panting, smiling Harry ran up to her calling her name.

"Hermione, over here!"

Hermione looked at the direction of her name being called. "Harry! You were supposed to help me in the courtyard this morning, where were you?"

"Listen, I'm really sorry about that, but I had to take care of a few things," said Harry breathing hard and looking a mite anxious.

"You know lunch is on you as punishment, right?"

Harry laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I know. Actually, I'm doing one better. C'mon!"

He grabbed her hand and dragged her along closer to the train station where a canal was dug. Hermione blinked as she recognized the piers where first-years boarded the enchanted boats to make their first approach to Hogwarts via the lake. And there, all by its lonesome, was one of the boats. "Harry, what on earth—"

"Get in, I asked Hagrid to borrow it for the afternoon."

"Aren't we going to get lunch?" she asked, looking dubiously at the boat. She could've sworn they were a lot larger when she first rode them.

"We are. Trust me." He was in one of the boats and held out a hand to her with an expectant look. Hermione hesitated a moment before taking the outstretched hand and climbed into the boat, sitting down. She watched as Harry dug into a pocket for his wand, tapped the boat's edged which caused it to launch forward.

* * *

"I know he said he asked her to Hogwarts, but I didn't think a romantic lake ride was on the list," Ron said as he spied his best friends leaving the pier. Luna peered over his shoulder at them.

"That was nice of him," she remarked. "Will you take me on a ride over the lake?"

"I think Harry should have the lake to himself, don't you think?"

"Hmm. I suppose. Besides, it's bad luck to have only four people on the water. Attracts the Beyu Bugs and I wouldn't want that."

Ron turned to peer at Luna at mention of this. The unasked question died on his lips as he resisted the urge to ask. "Hm, I have an idea. Let's head back to the castle, I want to get something from my room...."

* * *

The lake ride was surprisingly enjoyable, Hermione decided. It was a leisurely pace that Harry set, under a sunny sky with calm waters. It gave them quite a bit of time to pass the time reminiscing of their years at the school, pointing out areas on shore where significant events took place. They even passed over the approximate position of the merman village where Hermione — along with Ron, Cho and Gabrielle — were held as pieces in the Tri-Wizard tournament.

"I can't believe it was more than 3 years ago already," Hermione was saying. "It all went so fast."

"Yeah," Harry sighed.

By the time the boat came to rest at the far side of the lake, it was getting on into the lunch hour; early afternoon, even. The boat came to rest in a shallow beach, so they were able to dismount without getting wet.

"Why are we here?" said Hermione with a puzzled look.

Harry moved around a boulder and emerged with a picnic basket and large blanket. "Lunch!" he grinned. "Hey, I said I'd provide lunch. I figured something other than the usual Three Broomsticks."

Hermione looked with a raised brow as Harry shook out the blanket and waved her onto it. The lunch was simple fare — sandwiches, a few butterbeers. Easily something they could've had at the Three Broomsticks, but Hermione decided Harry was right. It was one of the nicer lunches she'd had in a while.

The sun moved steadily westward while the two sat and chatted. Despite enjoying the conversation, Harry noticed that Hermione shifted in her position more than usual.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't seem to find a comfortable position," she confessed. "My shoulder's a bit stiff, to be honest."

"That's because you fall asleep while reading," he teased.

"Hmph!"

"Well... would you like a shoulder rub?" Harry offered after a moment. Internally, he was chanting Please say yes, please say yes, while congratulating himself at sounding as off-handed as he could. His heart sped up briefly when she nodded and stretched out on her stomach.

Harry's fingers were trembling slightly as he lay them on her shoulders. He'd read a few things about how to give a woman a good shoulder rub and was desperately trying to recall everything he'd heard.

"Why do guys always brag about their massage skills to girls?" Hermione asked. Accused, more like.

"We do not!"

"Sure you do. Ask any of your roommates if they've ever bragged about their massage skills to girls they were after."

Harry frowned as the thought back to his interactions with girls he was interested in. "Well, I never did."

"Yes, well, you always seem to break the rul– ooooh, yes, right there," Hermione groaned as Harry's fingers found the knot and began easing it away.

"I would have thought you girls would see through it, anyhow."

"See through what?" asked Hermione, half turning to give Harry a quizzical look.

"The massage bragging. It's our way of getting our hands on you without getting slapped," said Harry with a grin.

"Yeah, we know," said Hermione wryly before resting her chin over her folded hands. She made appreciative noises as Harry's hands eased and rubbed over her back.

It was easily the best lunch she'd ever had.

* * *

"Do you see them?

"Not yet— wait, I think I see the boat. Yes! Over on the east side!"

Ron had run into Ginny back in Gryffindor Tower and explained his plan to spy on the two with his Omniculars. The siblings grabbed their respective lenses and were scanning the shoreline of the lake when Ginny announced her finding.

Ron swept the Omniculars over to the indicated stretch and saw the boat. Further up on a grassy area he could see two figures. Fingering the zoom knob, he swooped in on his best friends' lunch. What he saw surprised him. "It looks like... yes, it's a picnic! I think Hermione's lying down. Is he— is he leaning over her?"

"What? Where? I don't see— oooh! It looks like he's giving her a backrub." Ginny squinted through her omniculars; they were old and not very good. "He is! Dammit, he never gave me one of those!"

"Nor I," Luna said softly nearby. She wasn't peering through a set of Omniculars, but rather tracing abstract patterns on the boulder they were perched on.

"That dog! I never would've imagined that he'd— wait, he's sitting up. Uh, is he looking this way?" said Ron.

"Er, I think so. D'you think he sees us?"

"Nah, we're too far away— wait, he's got his wand now. What's he—?" Ron's question was abruptly cut off as both his and Ginny's Omniculars flew out of their hands and sped over the water towards Harry's direction.

Ginny and Ron blinked at one another. "No way," they echoed before peering back over the water.

"I can't believe he saw us! How'd he know it was us?" wondered Ron.

"Who else would it be?" asked Luna. "After all, you two have both been their voyeurs for the last few days." Both Ron and Ginny looked at Luna for the comment. She merely stared back expectantly. "Well, it's true, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, but when you put it like that..." said Ginny.

"I think they're coming back over the lake," said Ron, squinting over the lake's glint. "Let's get out of here!"

* * *

"Hermione, who's Count Lorry?" asked Harry.

"Count Lorry? Well, he's a figure in Wizarding mythology. He's in a number of stories, but the thing that he's best known for is being a ladies' man," said Hermione without hesitation. It figured that she'd have this information at her fingertips. "Think Don Juan, or Cassanova. Why do you ask? It's not in any of our study material."

"Oh, I just heard a reference to it earlier, and I didn't recognize it."

"Ah."

Harry processed this bit of trivia. It was Ginny who used it and gave him a playful punch and a smirk when Hermione wasn't looking. _Way to go, Count Lorry_ , she had said to him. Caught up with his memory of the scene, he only became aware of Hermione's departure when she leaned over next to him.

"G'night Harry. Thanks for lunch today, I had fun." Harry's stomach did that thing when a girl you like smiles at you. Then it did that thing when she leans in to give a good night hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Harry didn't even notice her head up the girls' side stairs, but rather sat in the same spot looking dazed for a full minute straight. This didn't go unnoticed by Ron.

"You know, it just occurred to me what You-Know-Who should've done if he was smart," said Ron.

"Wha—?" Harry shook his head back into the present. "What are you talking about?"

"Instead of having Dementors chase you around, he should've just polyjuiced one of them into Hermione. Much easier to give you The Kiss that way." Ron grinned.

"Say, Ron, remember that time you were sitting here in the Common Room and someone dumped butterbeer all over your head?" said Harry with an edge in his voice.

Ron blinked and frowned in thought. "I don't remember tha—"

Before he could finish, Harry picked up his half-finished mug of butterbeer and proceeded to pour it over Ron's head. This brought a slew of snickering and laughter from the rest of the Gryffindors.

Wiping his now-wet face with his hand, Ron turned to Harry who was looking back at with a 'How do you like them apples?' look. "Well. I walked into that one."

Harry headed upstairs, feeling peevish at Ron's relentless teasing. The butterbeer dumping helped alleviate that a bit, but when Ron waved at him as he was climbing the stairs, he blinked as Ron flashed a peace sign at him. For a minute he thought Ron was forwarding a peace offering; an apology. Then it hit him.

Two days left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, this is all I have for this. The final two chapters are unfinished. Maybe someday I'll finish them, but I'll have to get into a serious fluffy writing mood.


End file.
